


Nightmares

by remanth



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Johnlock - Freeform, Nightmare, drugged!sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:29:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remanth/pseuds/remanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a nightmare about what might have happened while he was drugged by Irene. John wakes him up and attempts to calm him down</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

"My, my dear Sherlock," Irene drawled as she sauntered around Sherlock's supine body on the floor. She trailed the end of her riding crop along Sherlock's cheekbones as she went. "Whatever shall I do with you now?"

Sherlock tried to speak but the drug Irene had injected into him was making him lose control of his muscles. His eyes could follow her, though, and he glared at her as hard as he could. He struggled to stand or even sit up, his hands scrabbling at the wood underneath him. He managed to make it up to his elbows before Irene's foot on his chest pushed him back down.

"I think I'm going to have a little fun with you," Irene mused, running the riding crop down Sherlock's chest. "After all, your precious John is busy elsewhere. We have all the time we could possibly need."

Irene placed the riding crop carefully on the ground and straddled Sherlock's legs. His coat fell open revealing her tanned skin but Sherlock was not in the least bit interested. His eyes snapped to her face when she started unbuttoning his shirt and brushing her fingers over the revealed skin.

"I... Irene..." Sherlock muttered before his tongue failed him. The Woman smiled at him, her eyes hard, and continued to slowly undress Sherlock. She tugged his shirt out of his pants and finished unbuttoning it. Letting it fall open, Irene placed her hands flat on Sherlock's chest. His heart was beating erratically and quickly, the drug and adrenaline fighting in his system.

Irene ran her nails over Sherlock's chest, leaving red trails behind. She moved to his nipples next, tweaking them between her fingers. Unwillingly, Sherlock moaned at the feeling and tried to lift his head.

"Ssh, easy love," Irene purred at him, pressing Sherlock's head back down. Her hands returned to his chest and rubbed. She wasn't gentle and had Sherlock squirming underneath her, trying to stop the pressure. Moving her hands down, Irene pressed at the skin above Sherlock's waistband and smiled when the detective moaned again.

"So sensitive, love," Irene murmured as she explored more of Sherlock's skin. "I can only guess that your dear doctor hasn't touched you yet." Sherlock's widened eyes made her laugh, confirming her guess. Feeling suddenly possessive, Irene skimmed her hands back up to Sherlock's neck and stroked over the muscles. She moved her hips lightly against Sherlock's lap and felt one part of the detective respond to her.

Irene slid back onto Sherlock's thighs and played with the button of his pants. Dipping her fingers underneath the waistband, she skimmed over the sensitive skin. Sherlock wriggled underneath her, still trying to glare. She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants slowly and dragged them down over his hips with some difficulty. The detective was wearing silky black boxers and they felt smooth against her fingers.

As she moved to pull the boxers down, Sherlock finally found his voice and started yelling at Irene. He still couldn't move very well but made every effort to push her back with the force of his words alone.

"Part of you wants this," Irene pointed out, brushing her fingers lightly against the head of his erection.

"And that part.... doesn't think for me," Sherlock managed. "Stop."

"You can't really stop me, love," Irene pointed out and teasingly pulled the boxers down. She ran her fingers over Sherlock's bare thighs and spread his legs apart. She teased him as she drifted closer to his groin, light pinches alternating with heavy pressure. Sherlock still struggled to move, trying to push her away.

"No, stop, I don't want you," Sherlock yelled. "John! John, help! Come find me!" He suddenly felt hands roughly shaking his shoulders and heard John's voice coming from Irene's mouth. The inconsistency froze him for several moments as his mind tried to work out what was going on.

"Sherlock! Wake up!" John's voice shouted, the hands still shaking his shoulders. "Come on, it's just a nightmare. Wake up!"

Gasping hard, Sherlock opened his eyes to see John's concerned face above him. He was dressed in his blue dressing gown, a t-shirt, and his boxers and was lying in his own bed in 221B. John breathed a sigh of relief as he saw sense come into Sherlock's eyes and sat back on the bed.

"You were having a nightmare," John explained, though it was patently obvious to Sherlock. "A nasty one if your screams were anything to go by. Want to talk about it?"

"It was Irene," Sherlock said shortly, sitting up in bed and drawing his legs up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs and stared at his comforter. "It was when she had drugged me."

"Go on," John prompted after Sherlock was quiet for several moments. "Did you dream something that happened? Because everyone gets tricked sometimes, Sherlock."

"No, this didn't happen. But it could have," Sherlock shuddered, his eyes seeking John's. "If you hadn't been there, it very well might have. She was trying to have sex with me in my nightmare and I had no say. I couldn't even move."

John was silent for a few moments, digesting what Sherlock had told him. The lack of movement and choice he could understand being scary. But just having sex with someone?

"Well, I'm sorry it scared you," John finally said. "But what was the part that scared you most?"

"Irene... brought up you," Sherlock murmured. "Said that she could tell I'd never been touched because of how sensitive my skin was. How you hadn't touched me." He looked away from John then, not wanting to see what might be on the doctor's face. After all the times he'd said he wasn't gay, what else could be but disgust?

John felt his mouth drop open at the admission. He'd been attracted to his flatmate for a few months now but believed Sherlock couldn't feel that. He'd said it himself, that night at Angelo's: married to his work. Taking a deep breath, John decided not to jump to conclusions.

"Did... did you want it to be me?" he asked softly. He wanted to reach out to Sherlock but knew the detective didn't always like personal contact.

"And if I said yes?" Sherlock asked. He still wouldn't look at John and his hands were clenched tightly around each other on his knees.

"I would say I wouldn't mind," John said, smiling. "And that I'd rather it were me than Irene in your dreams." Sherlock snapped his eyes up to John's, disbelief etched in his face.

"You would?" Sherlock asked, his deductive skills failing him for once. Though that was one of the things that drew him to John, the ability to be surprised by this man.

"I would," John confirmed. "And you know what always helps after a nightmare? Having someone next to you in bed. Budge over." John waited until Sherlock resituated himself on the bed and laid down next to him, one arm draped over the detective. He felt a pleasant warmth run through him when Sherlock smiled softly.

"You're right," Sherlock said. "This does make it better."

"I am right on occasion," John said dryly, tightening his arm over Sherlock. "Now go back to sleep." Sherlock closed his eyes and relaxed, breathing in the scent of John and resting a hand over John's arm. He had no more nightmares that night.


End file.
